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User blog:Freelancer Tucker/Darkside Interlude 1
Author's Note: So, I've decided to delve into the backgrounds of some of the characters more, starting with the new RL. Hopefully, this doesn't have too many errors in it as I haven't edited that much yet. '' RL was a pilot. He was a lot more than that to be honest, but it was more simpler to just condense it to that one sentence. He liked it that way, no need for any extra worries or introductions. Just four words and you knew everything you needed to know about the man. Of course he wasn’t as two dimensional as that made him seem, he had his quirks (He '''loved' to play the drums) and his vices, there was also the matter of his past; Something in which he tried very hard to avoid. Instead, he filled his time working for his friend: Leonard Mas7er. He respected the man, he did things not even augmented individuals like himself could only dream to do. Leonard wasn’t constantly scared that his life would end, that someone would take it upon themselves to consider him disposable, RL wished he could say the same for himself. Working for the UNSC had made him into little more than a tool, something to use and yet call a soldier, but his position in Leonard’s organization freed him from any of the shackles that had been placed on him. He was constantly around other pilots and their planes, he was in charge of their training and safety, he lead them as their de facto leader. The best part of his position he would usually say would have to be actually flying. Nothing but him, the machine he piloted, and the ever expanding sky. Everything made sense up there, nothing was out of sync, just the white clouds and the endless blue that lead to the celestial heavens. ---- Roman was a criminal. There was nothing else to put, that was who he was, there was little for the young man but the thrill of the crimes. It had been like that from a young age, no one was around to tell him what was good or bad, so he made up his own rules on how life should go. Everyone else was just a source of either cash or self indulgent pleasure, he was the only true “strong” one in the entire scheme of things, it helped he was one of the few people who could boast about their super-strength. He didn’t really know where it came from, he didn’t particularly care, it gave him enough backing to do whatever he wanted. Women, money, and the occasional flight of drug induced fancy, his life was made but it was never enough for Roman, he always had to try and get more than he was capable of grasping. When it came down to it, he wasn’t that invincible, there was always some alien or cyborg willing to beat him down to remind him of one little fact; He may be strong, but he was only human. Currently, he had gotten himself into one of those fights. It was a simple mistake, hit on the wrong guy’s girl and end up facing down his Exon made prosthetics. It was obviously modded, more strength and power into the false hand then even the most sketchy of doctors would prescribe. Roman put up a good fight, getting a good couple of swings in, but he didn’t seem to count on the guy’s friends to join in, cracking him over the head with a chair. The object breaking on contact with his head, Roman feel down, his chin hitting the hard tile floor. He could feel the blood trickling down the back of his head. Sweet blackness overtook his sight as something else crashed down on him. ---- Roman was a goner. That was the one thing he knew for sure as he awoke chained down in the cargo hold of some transport. Lights dim as his eyes tried to adjust to the new sensory information. He had heard rumors of someone trying to buy people with abilities like his, he had thought of it as such and never had taken it as having any substance. It was either that or the Exon cyborg was really that pissed over a simple exchange of words with his girl. She wasn’t even that pretty. Roman noted dryly as he tested the strength of the chains, grunting in effort as they only rattled with each movement. “Yeah, I don’t think these can be broken.” A voice wheezed from across the hold. Roman’s head immediately shot toward the source. What he saw surprised him, a Spartan in the darkness the dim lightning couldn't get rid of. His visor almost seemed to glow in the dark. Roman could not help but let any hope of escape sink, if whoever the hell had taken him, had somehow jumped one of the UNSC’s soldiers; What could he do? “Figured as much, can’t blame me for trying.” Roman replied to the Spartan, once again hearing choking noises from the other man, “Hey, are you alright?” “I think I’m going to die.” Roman did not know how to respond to such a statement, death had always been the end he was expecting for himself, but he knew others didn’t see their futures in such a bleak way. Hearing it come from another person unnerved him. “Whoever you are, I need to ask you a favor.” Once again, Roman didn’t respond, he wasn’t made to deal with this kind of emotional situation. The Spartan apparently had taken the silence as an acknowledgement for him to continue speaking. "I....I just want to see the sky again, you know? That's the only thing I really had." The Spartan said, his breathing hitched as he struggled to gasp for air. Roman could only sit and watch, part of him wishing he could help the guy out. Sighing, Roman once again struggled against his chains. Gritting his teeth at the strain on himself, he was surprised to find one of the chains did indeed break off, allowing him to move out of the rest. Now he could escape, leaving whatever this nonsense would turn out to be behind him. The labored breathing that came from the other person in the hold reminded him he wasn’t alone. The Spartan was obviously dying, there was nothing the young man could do about that, he guessed he could help him out with seeing the sky though. Selecting one of the more vulnerable points of the roof, Roman began to punch at it, whatever material it was heavily resistant to the blows. Keeping at it, cracks began to form from the impact, blood from his fists staining them red. With one final blow it opened, it wasn't a lot but it would do, he could make out the mid-afternoon sky from his vantage point. With a cocky smile he turned back to the prone form of the Spartan. "Yo, take at look man, bright sky right here for ya." There was no response, cautiously the young man went toward RL, he put his hand on his shoulder and shook him. "C'mon man, look. It's right there." He shook him even harder, not willing to believe that the man had truly passed on. His first good deed in years and it ended like this, Roman could only bow his head in respect to the other man’s passing. ---- RL was a fighter. That wasn’t always his name or his profession, nor was it what he wanted it to be. RL was forced to be a fighter, unable to escape from a madman’s game, he had to use his immense strength to survive. The original RL would have balked at the idea, a sympathetic heart for those who would fall in his wake, but Roman knew what had to be done to achieve freedom. He had taken the Spartan’s armor to help defend what he couldn’t, to appear more than human to his enemies. It was also a symbolic gesture, he had failed RL in his final moments, it was a form of appeasement to battle using his name and appearance. Roman could actually understand what made the original RL tick now, why the man craved to see the sky one last time. The sky meant no chains or restraints, nothing to hold you down. Roman knew RL would fight for that, so he had picked up where that man had left off. No one would stand in his way. Category:Blog posts